


here to stay

by preromantics



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Jon Walker's life through memorable kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here to stay

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: 4/23/08

It's sort of simple, the first time. All first kisses are either simple or awkward, though, Jon figures.

The guy, Mark - he's not much older than Jon, still in college, working as a TA for a semester in the music department of the high school. He's cute, attractive even, and Jon had found himself actually going to the band room after school to practice, letting Mark curl his hands over Jon's on the strings of his bass, pulling at his fingers.

It doesn't happen until Mark's last day - it's not, Jon doesn't really have a preference, never done anything with a guy, but Mark is nice. He waits until the band room clears out, right after the bell that signals the late bus, and walks over to the chair Mark is sitting in, tuning a guitar with the digital meter in his mouth.

He's got a nice mouth.

"So," Jon says, hands tucked in his pockets, and Mark looks up, smiling. He fumbles for words, unsure, "You've been a really good, um, teacher. Person."

Mark is short when he stands up, shorter than Jon who isn't even near the tallest in his sophomore class. He sets his hand on Jon's shoulder and squeezes, "Thanks," he says, "really."

Jon feels awkward in his body, almost, and they stay like that for a few seconds, close, before Mark turns away.

"Wait," Jon says, watching Mark's back, the ripple of the muscles under his polo when he turns around. It's only a step for Jon to close in the distance, leaning his neck down just slightly to match his lips to Mark's.

Mark tips his head up more, an initiative, sneaking his hand to Jon's chin, and kisses him back, just lightly, sucking Jon's fuller bottom lip between his own.

He steps back after a second, flustered, "Shit, sorry," he says, looking around the room, at the doors, then back to Jon.

Jon shrugs, playing it off, and manages a small smile.

"If you were older," Mark says, sighing, maybe trying to be consolatory or maybe just helping himself.

That stings, a little, but Jon smiles and grabs his bass. "It's okay," he says, but softly.

When he walks out the door, he walks into Tom, walking out of one of the private practice rooms with his own guitar. "Hey!" Tom says, smiling really wide, flipping his hair out of his eyes, "I was just going to call you."

Jon doesn't really think about Mark much after that.

-

(Jon and Tom, they sort of drift around friendship and relationship, always close. When Jon breaks up from his first Serious Relationship, Tom is there, and they spend hours watching Frasier re-runs on the couch, memorizing the feel of their chapped winter lips together during commercials.)

-

Jon meets Pete Wentz and the people that inevitably follow. Pete was nice but maybe tasted too state and ambitious for Jon, and too taken when he wrapped his arms around his lead singer.

He'd always enjoyed making out, intimate enough that he could almost learn someones secrets, but not so intimate that he'd feel obligated the next morning, the next week.

City to city there were tons of people, and maybe Jon was young, not even old enough for clubs and bars, but there was always someone. When there wasn't someone new there was someone familiar, on tour or back home.

It's not like he was, well, he didn't just kiss any random person. There were certain things, factors that he choose people by. At some point it narrowed down from two genders to one, but it wasn't made as a statement or any big coming out. He looked for something in the eyes, a laugh that wasn't dead and words that weren't terribly slurred.

Mainly, though, mainly he watched them smile.

-

January cold in Europe is different than January cold in Chicago, instead of bitter it is wet. It's only the third day, but Jon feels himself at that turning point of drain and comfort.

After the show most of the bands and some of the crew huddle into a small somewhat dingy bar, crowded around worn wooden tables and along the front deck area.

Jon settles himself in a corner, warm by a stone fireplace, but gets bored by the same stories he's heard, and is only slightly amused by the dares that the young, energetic singer of Panic at the Disco, Brendon, is willing to preform.

He goes out for air, tightening his jacket as he walks. It's always nice to breath in cold air.

"Hey," says a voice, both tentative and inviting from the side of him. Jon turns to find Spencer, young drummer of Panic, seemingly also uninterested by his singer's tricks inside the bar, waving at him slightly.

"Hey," Jon says back, rubbing his hands together at the chill and walking over. "Your singer, he's doing some crazy shit in there."

Spencer smirks, rolls his eyes slightly. "Oh really?" he asks, without a hint of surprise. "Too crazy for you?"

If Jon was thinking about it, he would maybe think that Spencer was coming on to him, just a little. By the tilt of his hips and slide of his lips.

"Nah," he says, maybe leaning forward a little, "Nothing is too crazy for me."

Spencer laughs, the most melodic laugh Jon has ever heard on a drummer, but sharp at the edges like a snare. Jon focuses on his lips, chapped, but still inviting. Just shy of full, just nice for Jon's own lips to fit over.

"What?" Spencer asks, one eyebrow raised.

Jon laughs, stops staring. Sort of.

"Like something you see?"

Jon considers the options; Spencer's young, not that much younger than Jon, but sometimes Jon just feels _old_. He's pretty and soft and well - then Spencer smiles, bright and anxious around the corners.

"Maybe," Jon says, but he leans in on the 'e' and kisses Spencer, cool and rough until Spencer parts his lips for Jon, warm and smooth.

It's a nice kiss, great even, but the bar door slams open letting out a flood of noise, and Spencer pulls back quickly. Jon steps back, too, although he knows most of the guys on tour don't care, so more for Spencer's sake.

Brendon comes out the door, on the shoulders of William and Siska, cheering, and Spencer pulls his back off the rail with a small smile to Jon, something a little darker in his eyes, and joins them.

-

At some point it all sort of slows down, the kissing and Jon's life.

On the first day of Truckstops and Statelines, Jon is busy. Really busy because the pattern isn't even _established_ much less worn in. He's walking from a trailer to the backstage ramp, trying to carry the last of the wires and a guitar on his shoulder, except one of the loops of wires slip from his grip and tangle around his foot, and he trips. His palms hit the pavement, and he automatically feels the sting and burn of the gravel scratching them up, and another sting when his knee catches the rest of him too hard.

Luckily, everyone is inside, setting up and checking sound and checking out the venue.

Or, well, Jon thought they were. When he looks up, Spencer is there, leaning against the ramp rail and looking down at Jon. He's seemingly torn between mild concern and amusement - something playing at the side of his lips.

Jon throws his hands up, both in embarrassment and as a physical laugh.

Spencer walks down and Jon stands up, picking the larger pieces of gravel from his hands.

"Ouch," Spencer says, in sympathy, examining Jon's hands. He pulls at one of Jon's wrists, squeezing to pull it closer. "Nothing serious."

"I'm pretty indestructible," Jon says, distracted by the shine of Spencer's hair in the sun, the pressure on his wrist.

"Of course you are." Spencer smiles up at him, an invite all over again but maybe not as much, more warmth.

Jon can't help it, just leans down slightly to brush barely against Spencer's top lip, humming. Spencer makes a soft noise and Jon pulls back. "There," he says, "I feel better."

Spencer smirks, pulls Jon forward by his wrist and crushes their lips together. Just for a second, just enough to leave Jon breathless and wanting more.

They pull apart when an engine starts up somewhere behind them, and Jon hisses when Spencer's fingers brush along his palms.

"I'll get these," Spencer says, indicating the dropped wires, and he has a little smile, "go inside."

-

When Jon is asked to play with Panic, Spencer is the one who asks him.

"It's okay, really, I don't mind," Jon says, when Spencer says he's sorry. Again.

Spencer shrugs, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, and Jon can feel Spencer's eyes watching his hands as he runs through cords, trying not to fumble.  
He looks up, just once, and stills his hands on the strings, surprised at the smile on Spencer's face, and he sits in still silence for a moment.

"What?" Spencer asks, looking up.

"Nothing," Jon says, quickly. He's maybe a little nervous - not that he's expected to be perfect, these aren't _his_ songs, just. Also, Spencer.

Spencer stands, stretching just slightly so his shirt rides up, one of his ridiculous girl shirts that Jon thinks are indecent. He crosses over just slightly and brushes his hand against Jon's shoulder, except it misses slightly, fingers against the edge of Jon's shirt sleeve, on the skin, and Jon shivers. Spencer laughs, slight.

"Thanks, though," he says, "really."

Jon smiles up at him, words of reassurance on his tongue, but Spencer's mouth intercepts them, in the way. Almost just a light touch at first, involuntary, or like he can't stop himself.

(Which Jon understands; totally understands the way Spencer's lips are slowly becoming habit, addiction.)

It's awkward to kiss over the bass, Jon's done it before, but this is different with Spencer standing over him, his nose pressed against Jon's cheek when Jon's tongue slips inside. It's not too awkward that Jon can't feel it up the back of his spine, warming his neck.

Brendon comes crashing through the door when Jon and Spencer break for air, singing something that Jon, dazed, can't place.

"We're on in ten," Ryan tells the room, following Brendon in, and he looks sort of nervously at Jon. But Jon sees Spencer intercept his gaze, easily, and when Ryan's face relaxes it's sort of like the first acceptance.

-

("Good luck," Spencer says, right in Jon's ear before they go on stage, and it almost seems too formal when the taste of Spencer's mouth is still fresh on Jon's lips, sweet and spicy. His hot breath on Jon's neck replacing all the bass-lines and chord progressions that he needs to not fuck it up for these guys, his new chance.

"You too," Jon says, turning just slightly to meet Spencer's eyes, dark.)

-

Two important marks on the timeline of the Jonathan Walker Story happen a little later, in a hotel somewhere in the Midwest.

They, Brendon&amp;Ryan&amp;Spencer sit him down in the quiet late-night lobby, first, Brendon hanging anxious on his shoulders from behind, still slick with sweat from the show. Ryan is staring at a point on Jon's knee, he looks anxious, too, but he's also sort of smiling.

Spencer sighs, in the way he does so it's directed at the people in the room. When Jon looks up Spencer's smiling, too, in his eyes. "I-We want you to stay," he says, quickly in one breath.

"Forever," Brendon adds brightly into Jon's shoulder, "and ever and ever."

Jon wouldn't lie and tell anyone he hadn't wanted this, hadn't hated thinking about having to go home, go back to behind the scenes. Just a smile at Spencer and a nod at Ryan, in his sort of overwhelmed state seals the deal.

-

"I'm so, so happy about this," Jon tells Spencer later, sitting on the edge of his bed and kicking off his sandals. He's content and warm, watching Spencer tucked under his sheets, knees up with a book propped against them.

Spencer sets his book down carefully, smoothing out the sheets around his feet. "I'm glad you're, you know, staying."

They sort of sit there for a minute in silence, surrounded by the dim reading light, before something clicks in Jon's head, and he climbs over, up onto Spencer's mattress to kneel in front of him. "Hey," he says, Spencer's breath on his face.

"Hey," Spencer says.

They lean in at the same time, angle wrong, and Spencer sounds younger than usual when he laughs before adjusting his face, fixing the angle, but Jon decides he wants more this time.

He noses down Spencer neck, Spencer helpfully arching back when Jon opens his lips just a little, permission in the form of wetheat. Jon catches his lips down to Spencer's collarbone, sucking slightly.

It takes Jon a minute to realize that Spencer's hands are on his shoulders, heady with the soft taste and scent of his skin.

"I'm really happy about this, too," Spencer says, grinning sort of breathlessly. "Just so you know."


End file.
